Disclaimer: Don't own Tin Man, if you have a problem with that remember what they say about sleeping dogs.
Author's Note: We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you this little ficlet. Don't blame me, blame the amusing thought that performed a hit and run on my way to buy groceries.
The Consort was incensed, enraged even. His nostrils were flaring wildly and there was more than one vein popping in his neck. Wyatt Cain could understand the reason for Ahamo's fury, really he could, but that didn't change anything. The Tin Man had given his word and that's all there was to it.
"I don't care what the Mystic Man told you," Ahamo bellowed, "I said I'm not having it and I mean it!"
Cain merely set his jaw and glared back obstinately.
"And even if he did phrase it like that," the Consort ranted on, "I doubt he intended for you to take it quite so literally and I'm sure there was some statute of limitations on the whole thing!"
The Tin Man refused to budge an inch.
"You know what," interrupted DG, bouncing out of the bed with a cheeky grin, "I think I'm going to go take a shower."
Face flushing scarlet, the Tin Man got up to follow her. He had promised the Mystic Man not to leave her side at any cost after all.